


Glitter and Gold

by VesperNexus



Category: The Spy Who Came in from the Cold - John Le Carré
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 17:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11063304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VesperNexus/pseuds/VesperNexus
Summary: After a week he began to feel almost normal. True, when the second night had come, and he found himself gripping the same slip hips in the throes of his dream, he had panicked. The third night, he began to expect it. By the end of the week, he could not decide which pleased him more: Fiedler on his back, or on his knees.Alec is not attracted to Jens. He most certainly is not.





	Glitter and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless PWP/ Erotica. This kind of (REALLY) got out of hand. Should be studying, but who needs that when gay love awaits.
> 
> Title inspired by Barns Courtney's "Glitter and Gold".
> 
> Ended up being way darker than intended. Please take note of the tags.

**Glitter and Gold**

  
Do you walk in the shadow of men  
who sold their lives to a d r e a m?

Do you ponder the manner of things,  
in the dark  
the **dark** ,

the **dark** ,

the **dark**?

Fiedler glowed.

Not literally, of course. Perhaps then, Leamas noticing would have been less strange.

When he was excited, and the pitch of his voice changed, and the Saxonian twang gave way to a Canadian tilt, he glowed. His eyes, dark as they were, would brighten. He talked quickly, and the composed mask worn by lawyers and spies alike would crack, and between these tiny miniscule cracks, Leamas could see something akin to joy. His dimples appeared more often.

Yes. Glowed was an appropriate term.

For the first few weeks, Leamas ignored his findings. They were ridiculous. Feminine. _Dangerous._

Fiedler was both a communist and a man. Leamas didn’t know which was worse.

So for the first few weeks, he ignored his findings. And for the first few weeks, he _could_.

And then, it happened.

Fiedler had been talking about this and that – tongue looser than usual with a Steinhager cradled comfortably in one palm. They were sat beside one another on the couch, Leamas more carefree than he dare admit. And then Fiedler had done it – he reached over and tapped him on the shoulder.

He startled. Through the alcoholic haze, lost in the soothing melody of Fiedler’s voice saying words he didn’t focus on, he startled at the warmth piercing the thin layer of his shirt. Without thinking, his fingers clamped tightly around the East German’s wrist, thumb and middle finger touching.

Fiedler was pushed back by the force of it all. Not that Leamas noticed. He only noticed how thin Fiedler’s wrist was. How the pale skin began to colour – soft up to the underside where it gave way to thin, almost imperceptible scars. How large his hands looked in comparison. How he might easily overpower Fiedler – how he could have him on his back in an instant, _both_ thin wrists pinned above his head. How he would buck and breathe heavily and how “ _Leamas”_ would roll of his tongue. How –

“Leamas? Leamas!”

He snapped back to reality, releasing Fiedler as if the touch of his skin burned (not that it didn’t.)

“I-” He breathed in deeply, “I…”

“I’m sorry.” He’s taken aback, eyes shifting to Fiedler’s face. He looked just as startled, but in between the prison of dark lashes Leamas could make out the sadness. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to startle you.” He spoke slowly, as if he might cause the bull to charge. Leamas noticed his empty glass. He had wanted Leamas to pour him another.

“…Alec?” Fiedler broke the silence, voice soft. Leamas felt irrationally angry. He was not pathetic. He didn’t _Fiedler_ of all people to feel sorry for him.

He bristled, jumping of the couch as if personally affronted. “Keep your bloody hands to yourself, aye Fiedler?” His voice filled with malice, he ignored the almost invisible drop of Fiedler’s shoulders.

The slam of his door echoed through the house, disturbing the shadows.

*

That night, he could not sleep.

He heard nothing beyond the confines of his room, only his own breathes as laden with guilt as they were. He had been unnecessarily cruel, he knew. Control may be pleased. For some reason, Leamas was not.

He tossed and turned to the early hours of the morning until –

His door creaked open. He bolted upright in a moment, hand stretching to the knife tucked safely beneath his pillow. Heart beating loudly –

“It’s only me.” Fiedler. “I suppose I have a habit of startling you.”

Leamas could barely make out his shape in the darkness. He neared, shoulders straight, footsteps hollow. Leamas turned on the lamp beside his bed.

Fiedler’s shadow was slim. Leamas tracked it to his socked feet, eyes trailing up those long legs to those narrow hips and waist. The air felt unusually dense.

“What are you doing here?” Lying beneath the blankets, Leamas felt unusually vulnerable. Fiedler only neared, shirt rolled up messily to his sleeves. On his left wrist, a purple ring had blossomed in the shape of Leamas’ fingers. It felt oddly satisfying.

Fiedler neared until he sat opposite the Brit on the bed, a smile adorning his lips. Leamas drew in a breath, something heavy stirring deep in his belly.

“I wasn’t sure until today…” there was an amused lilt to his voice and Leamas had the most irrational thought to kiss it away.

Fiedler leaned in – and Leamas did.

It felt more satisfying that he could imagine. Fiedler’s lips were soft, inviting, and they opened at his command. He could not hold back. His tongue explored Fiedler’s mouth too eagerly, his hand cradling his jaw. He kissed him deeply – passionately – as the swell of his member grew in his trousers.

They barely spoke. Leamas wasted no time pushing Fiedler onto his back and Fiedler wasted no time complying. Leamas was in charge.

Fiedler’s shirt slipped off his shoulders too easily. Leamas would find that the pale expanse of skin stretched from his navel to far, far below.

It may have taken an hour – it may have taken two, three, four. Neither noticed. Leamas was settled naturally between Fiedler’s legs as they wrapped around him. Deep inside the East German he was surrounded by such a tight warmth. The lawyer’s eyes were shut, his lips parted as Leamas mouthed at his neck.

They moved in unison, a well-oiled machine. Fiedler made sounds too sinful to repeat, and Leamas liked how he moaned _Alec_ best of all.

Leamas lost himself. Hands at those narrow hips, lifting those milky thighs, then imprisoning Fiedler’s thin wrists above his head as the spy bucked into him and _begged._

He didn’t remember who came first – only the sensational feeling of filling up the younger man to the brim, until ejaculate decorated his inner thighs. His hair was a mess. His voice high. Both wrists bruised. He was beautiful.

They both fell asleep, Leamas curled around Fiedler, one leg between two.

In the morning, Leamas woke up alone, fully-dressed, his member hard in his trousers.

*

The dream shook him more than he liked to admit.

It only took him ten minutes in the shower and the thought of Fiedler splayed on his back to make him come undone. He didn’t think about it.

On the first day, he could barely look the younger man in the eye. Shame flooded his veins when he thought of the dream, the desire that still riddled his brain. He kept to himself, content to let Fiedler think he was mad about this touch the night before. It was easier when he used fewer words – although it did not help that Fiedler’s voice seemed smoother with every word. And when Leamas kept quiet, Fiedler absent-mindedly filled the silence for both of them, his words soft and calming. Leamas could not forget how he sounded beneath him. It was infuriating.

After a week he began to feel almost normal. True, when the second night had come, and he found himself gripping the same slip hips in the throes of his dream, he had panicked. The third night, he began to expect it. By the end of the week, he could not decide which pleased him more: Fiedler on his back, or on his knees.

“I thought perhaps you might like to go on a walk.”

Leamas glanced up. Their day had been uneventful. He had been today, as every other day in the past week, as secluded as he could be. When he and Fiedler did not talk, he busied himself in his room. Far from that sensual voice and devious smile. Perhaps, he thought, he could move past his frightening attraction.

“At this hour?” He raised an eyebrow, the moonlight streaming through the window coming into focus.

Fiedler smiled, and Leamas caught how his left dimple flashed briefly. _Damn it._ “If I did not know better, Leamas, I’d say you did not want to be alone with me.”

Leamas forced himself not to jump. Had he been that obvious? Did Fiedler _know –_

The East German was still smiling, but the laugh lines around his eyes told Leamas it was a joke. Fool.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “let’s go for a walk.”

He made a terrible show of getting up and grabbing his coat, rudely leaving Fiedler to hurry after him. _Breathe Alec._ The cool night air bit into his skin and he almost groaned when the door to the cottage closed with a soft echo. He did not want a reason to be alone with Fiedler. Why on earth had he agreed?

The walked in silence for a while, for which Leamas was grateful. Fiedler walked too closely too him, the heat radiating off his body sending shivers down Leamas’ spine as their arms brushed.

 _You’re acting like a teenage girl,_ he berated himself. _Calm._

He glanced at the younger man, but Fiedler seemed to be focused on path ahead. The moon cast him in a pastiche of shadows – the edges of his cheekbones too sharp, the curve of his jaw too prominent. Leamas knew how comfortably his hand would fit there.

Irritation began to grow within him. What was the point of this foolery?

“What is this, Fiedler? Have you finally lost it?” He spit out as spitefully as he could. An entire week of being foul mannered had not turned Fiedler off. He briefly wondered why this would.

“Hmm?” Fiedler finally looked at him, his eyes hooded. “It’s just a walk Leamas, nothing foul.” There was laughter in his voice.

Leamas bristled. Enough was enough.

He stopped where he was with a great huff, forcing Fiedler to stop and look back at him. They were barely a mile from the house.

“Enough of this foolery, Fiedler.” The East German looked impassive, perhaps amused. Suddenly, Leamas felt as if a great joke was played at his expense. “I’ll have no more of this trickery!”

With such dramatic flare Control would chuckle proudly, Leamas turned back and marched the way he came. One foot in front of the other, he ignored Fiedler’s calls as the younger man followed in pursuit.

“Leamas – _Alec,_ ” he shuddered, almost stopping. He could not help but think how beautifully his name rolled off those lips. _God._ He did not stop. “Alec, _please,_ ”

But he knew what he must do. There were no two ways about it.

They got to the house in record speed, Alec marching through the front door and spinning to face it. He stripped his coat off his shoulders and threw it lazily onto the couch as he waited for Fiedler to catch up.

The young man marched through the door and closed the door behind him quickly. Not too two steps into the threshold, Leamas had him backed against the door.

Fiedler looked up in surprise. Leamas was far too close. Their chests touched. Leamas could feel the warmth of Fiedler’s breath at his neck. He would take what Fiedler wanted so badly to give him.

“Alec?” The younger man said weakly, as if confused. But Alec knew better. He took a step further, until Fiedler’s back was flat against the door and Leamas’ intentions could not be confused for anything else.

He looked down at the man and thought of the many different ways this could play out.

Alec leaned in so his mouth was to Fiedler’s ear, “Are you so _desperate_?”

He felt the beautiful shiver than ran through his body, and stepped forth further still, one knee boldly fitting between Fiedler’s parted legs.

“What are you doing?” Fiedler’s voice must have been weak even to his own ears, because a blush seemed to fill his cheeks quickly.

“Taking what I _deserve, Jens._ ” Leamas looked deeply into those impossibly wide eyes and dilated pupils. He did not have to dream about Fiedler on his knees, his back, bent over, legs parted, below him, above him _riding –_

He kissed him, for real this time.

Fiedler gave into him easily, and Leamas wasted no time in ravishing him.

He kissed him deeply, fiercely, his tongue exploring and tasting gin and smoke and something _sweet_. Fiedler’s back thudded heavily against the door and he moaned loudly into Alec’s mouth, eyes closed, lips bruised.

Alec felt himself harden quickly, and he pushed against Fiedler’s leg. The younger man’s eyes snapped open, and he seemed to be waking from a daze.

They barely broke apart but too breathe. Fiedler was powerless against him, submissive in ways Leamas never imagined. It was glorious. He tore the clothes off the younger man, and then his own, kissing his lips and his neck to the rhythm of heavy breathing and –

“ _A- Alec,_ oh, there, _please,_ ”

It was better than all the dreams. Fiedler was beautiful – it would not be argued. Slim, lithe, skin a pale expanse stretching over a flat stomach and muscles that shuddered at Alec’s touch.

Alec did not wait. The bedroom seemed a thousand miles away so he did not wait.

He pulled and pushed and Fiedler stumbled helplessly until they got to the wooden table, and Alec pushed his shoulders down so his chest was flat against the tabletop.

He settled in between those long legs and kissed down Fiedler’s spine. He only waited three fingers.

Being inside Fiedler was more fulfilling than he could have imagined. He was hard and long and thick and the ring of muscles was incredibly tight and warm around him, and he filled the younger man to the brim. He feared he may cum without moving.

Beneath him, Fiedler seemed a mess. He trembled, palms flat against the table, fingers curled around the edge, Alec’s name tumbling from his lips like a prayer. The bruise on his wrist was as prominent as it should have been.

Gripping those hips painfully, Alec did not wait.

“ _Jens,_ ” he breathed, and pounded the spy into the table so powerfully the wooden legs quaked. _In-out-in-out-in-_ he was ruthless, rough, every slap of skin against skin colouring the German with bruises.

“ _Alec,_ ” Jens stuttered, undone. Leamas could feel himself loosening at the sinful moan, _“I feel so filled – I- I’m-”_

Like the dream, Alec does not know who comes first. And like the dream, his seed seems to spill between those milky thighs endlessly. He thrusts his way through the orgasm, and keeps going until Fiedler has become weakened and dazed beneath him, unable to do anything but take it.

Unlike the dream, however, Alec does not have to wait until the next night to have Fiedler on his back. And he does.

For the most part, Jens is all too compliant. He opens his legs and moans beautifully and gives Alec all he has wanted, and Alec _takes and takes and takes._

On his back, legs wrapped around Alec’s waist and then hiked above his shoulders. On his knees, fingers curled so tightly around the headboard his knuckles are white. Above Alec, arms around his shoulders, sinking slowly onto an engorged member. The bed, the couch, up against the door, by the fireplace, the kitchen chair, the floor – they leave no place unmarked. Alec _takes and takes and takes_ , and Jens does not complain. Alec takes him in all the places he has dreamed and leaves more bruises on unblemished skin than he could hope, and Jens moans his name and begs for more all the same.  

*

When morning comes, Leamas wakes first, curled around Fiedler, one leg between two. The younger man is still as Leamas runs his fingers softly over his hips, tracing the bruises left behind. He is a gorgeous pastiche of purple and blue and he so obviously belongs to Alec.

This time, it is not a dream.

It is not a dream when Alec roles Jens onto his side and lefts one leg, his length slipping inside the younger man too easily. He is still loose from last night.

“Alec…” Jens’ breath is hitched, uncertain.

“I didn’t know how to wake you,” Alec whispers back, and takes again what he has so rightfully claimed.

He _takes and takes and takes_.

It is not a dream.


End file.
